


MacArthur Park

by SideburnDefenseSquad (Kawaiivy)



Category: Black Jack (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Angst, Crying, DadJack, Gender Issues, Kissing, Misunderstandings, Other, SIDEBURNS, Sakura (Cherry Blossoms), Symbolic death, Unhappy Ending, ugly crying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 06:16:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9707126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kawaiivy/pseuds/SideburnDefenseSquad
Summary: A passing moment taking place in an alternate "Confluence"





	

“Your daughter really is cute. Precocious, too.”

“She’s-” he started. “Yeah, she is.” 

“Where’s her mother?” The hesitancy in Kei’s voice betrayed him. In a different time, they could have had that. What Megumi had wanted more than anything. Hazama didn't notice.

“It’s a long story,” Hazama shrugged in a gesture that was just  _ so _ him, like he could not care less about where her mother was. The girl must have been three or four years old. It wasn't implausible that Hazama had gotten married in the five years since they’d last seen each other, but he also wasn't quite the type to do something so drastically domestic.

 

Kei looked down. Letting his loosely styled hair fall in front of his face. He didn't want to look at Hazama at the moment. Obliviously, or perhaps reflexively, Hazama reached out to push the hair out of his friend’s face. Kei jerked away from his touch, and managed to unstick one of his carefully-applied sideburns. There was silence as it came to rest gently on the ground among the scattered cherry blossoms.

 

“Megumi… I'm sorry”

That was what had done it, not the sideburn. Kuroo had used Kei’s birth name. The name he'd given up that night on the operating table. The name that signified everything he could no longer be, that  _ they _ could no longer be. Back then, Megumi had been teased and told that she had only gone to medical school to get her “MRS” degree and in hindsight it might have been at least partially true. 

Kei realized, even after the name change, even behind the tailored wool suits and obnoxious printed ties. Behind the fashionable fake sideburns and horn-rimmed glasses, he was still a woman in Hazama’s mind. 

 

Tears welled up in Kei’s eyes. Tears he’d managed to mostly bottle up in the years since the operation. Tears that still leaked out occasionally onto his pillow when he was alone and could break his stiff upper lip façade. He was crying in front of the man who, despite his best efforts, he still loved dearly.

Here, on this semi-private park bench, Kei Kisaragi openly wept. He wept for himself, he wept for what he must have put Hazama through, he wept for what could have been if he hadn’t acted so selfishly. He was crying so hard he barely noticed the comforting hand on his shoulder.

 

* * *

 

Their mouths met, gentle and warm and more than a little awkward. Neither of them knew what exactly to do with their hands at first, very aware of how the scene would look to any passers by. Two men- one wearing a light colored suit, with one sideburn and horn-rimmed spectacles, The other wearing a dark overcoat despite the unseasonably warm spring day, whose two-tone appearance made some avert their gaze and others stare- sharing a lovers’ embrace. Kuroo didn’t just still think of him as a woman. No. Kuroo still _ wanted _ him. Kei sobbed and shuddered, breaking from the kiss. Kuroo only pulled him closer in response, cupping his face and running a thumb over Kei’s lips. For someone who was capable of such delicate work, Kuroo’s hands were scarred, rough, and undeniably masculine. Kei was flushed, not just with desire- as it was a fairly chaste kiss despite all the passion behind it, but also with embarrassment. He was a mess, one sideburn missing. His face was slick with snot, tears, and saliva. His glasses had begun to fog up too. And yet, when he looked into Kuroo’s eyes, he saw longing there and he couldn’t quite tell if it made him excited or afraid. He disengaged just long enough to pull out his handkerchief and attempted to mop up the thin layer of moisture coating his face before falling limply against Kuroo’s chest.

 

“What about your daughter?” Kei’s voice was as weak as he felt. Kuroo’s hands were warm and comforting against his back, even through the wool suit jacket and polyester shirt. 

“She’s fine, she's waiting in the car.”

Kei looked up at the man he loved. He’d tried denying it. Five years of trying. He’d thought he’d succeeded until all of this.

“So, what? You’re going to make love to me right here on this park bench?” Kei could say the things demure Megumi wouldn't have dared to- this dual identity had it’s upside at times. 

“No I just… It’s not too late to come back”

Kei looked away before physically freeing himself from Hazama’s arms. They’d both made their choices that night in the operating room. He had become Kei. And Kuroo, he probably wouldn’t have said that was the exact moment he decided to become the notorious Black Jack, but it certainly hadn’t helped as far as Kei was concerned.

“We both know I can't.” He smiled through the tears and for a moment he was Megumi again. “MacArthur’s Park is melting in the dark.”

Then Kei began laughing at his own joke until they were  _ both _ laughing and it felt almost as good as the kiss had, but more natural. It was easy to laugh with Kuroo, far easier than it was to kiss him, and that in itself was dangerous.

The cruise ship doctor bent down to retrieve his fallen sideburn, still chuckling to himself before standing and brushing away the cherry blossom petals that had found their way onto his lap.

“Call me Kei,” he paused searching for the right words. “It’s easier. For me at least- it must be difficult for you though, Kuroo and I'm sorry.”

“It’s not all that difficult, Kei.” He smiled, or grimaced, Kei wasn’t quite sure which. “I go by Black Jack now. Call me that.”

“That seems...equitable” The façade was back up. As much as he wanted to leap back into Kuroo’s- into Black Jack’s arms. As much as he wouldn’t even have minded being ‘the other woman’ to whatever relationship Black Jack had to the mother of that little girl. He couldn’t do it. He was Kei Kisaragi now. He could be selfish if he wanted. He could be boorish, or brash, or...masculine. As far as he was concerned Megumi had died that night on the operating table, Kei certainly  _ had  _ mourned her. Tears threatened, but he pushed them deep inside before speaking again. “I think it would be better if we didn’t see each other. At least not for a while. I’ll still write, If you’d like, but…” The tears welled up again and he had to pause to quell them once more. “But face to face like this is just too much. Please understand.”

Kei reached out his hand, the one that wasn’t clutching the soiled handkerchief and errant sideburn. Black Jack stood and took it.

“I understand, Kei.” his smile was so kind it almost cracked the façade all over again.

“Thank you, Black Jack.”   
The handshake probably wasn’t as awkward as Kei felt it was. Their hands seemed to move mechanically, clasped in a grip that was firm, almost too firm, but friendly. It didn’t matter how Kei really felt; it was true that the flame of love would never really die, but Megumi  _ had _ . This was just how it had to be from now on. It didn’t feel right, but that was the way it was, not just for Kei’s sake but also for Black Jack and his young daughter’s. 

It was over in a moment, almost as soon as it had begun. Their hands parted and they both nodded curtly, as if to finalize their deal. It was as if they had been following a script, performing an ancient ritual. A gesture steeped in masculinity.

 

* * *

 

They parted ways after that. They both had lives to get back to; Black Jack had his daughter and Kei had the sea. It wasn't until much later, when he was alone in his quarters and looking through the album, that he allowed himself to cry again. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact to know, share, and back up my particular headcanon: Wigs and fake facial hair such as beards, mustaches and sideburns were fashionable among men in the 70s who wanted to switch up their look or couldn't grow their own and were available at department stores and in catalogues.
> 
> Song Referenced: https://youtu.be/tRwYQgk05DY


End file.
